


For All That We Have Left

by immortalbanner



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Canon Queer Relationship, Established Relationship, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, author also hates etymology, author cares too much about etymology, depictions of self harm, i tried to be accurate, likely histroical innacuracy, not graphic just being safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbanner/pseuds/immortalbanner
Summary: It had been forty years since Nicolò had first died. He knew by now the family he did have had little time left, so her and Yusuf travel to his home in hopes someone in his family was still alive.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 1
Kudos: 111





	For All That We Have Left

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first Old Guard fic I'm posting after watching it for the first time recently. All I can say is that the only thing that has stopped me from watching the movie on loop was work, 
> 
> I like how this turned out and I hope you do too! I cared a little too much about etymology while writing this. It's also pretty different from my usual writing style since I did my best to make it at least give the vibe it was from the 12th century.

It had been forty years since Nicolò had first died.

He still remembered his death. He’d been stabbed right in the back, leaving barely enough time to slit his killer’s throat.

It should’ve been that easy. He should descended to heaven.

Instead, he woke up in the night next to his killer. Before the shock could set in his insticnts did and he’d tackled him to the ground. Soon, he’d killed his enemy again, only to die by his hand in return.

That happened again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until they’d given up entirely to realise for whatever reason, they simply couldn’t die. Or more accurately, they couldn’t stay dead.

That would forever be how he and his lover Yusuf had first met. They’d spent those forty years learning to laugh about it.

When they’d discovered this unforeseen immortality, they weren’t sure what it had all meant. They still didn’t, or knew why. Both of them had only known they couldn’t go back to what their lives had been before.

No more Crusades. No more battling who the other had been told was the enemy. Nicolò had always had second thoughts about the wars, even when he had been sent away to Jerusalem without a choice.

When Yusuf wouldn’t die, he’d realised that maybe they were both there for a reason. There had to be for the two of them to be the only ones death wouldn’t come upon.

They’d left the battle when it was over, and there was nothing but bodies around them. Even with their different religions, they’d both been on the same page; maybe God didn’t want them to fight and had brought the two of them together. Nicolò hadn’t seen their ability as anything other than divine intervention.

In their time, they’d done a lot of traveling, mostly helping those who they could. They’d done their best to make this immortality useful for others.

One other thing became glaringly apparent to them; they weren’t aging. Not a grey hair or a single wrinkle that was more than a smile line. They hadn’t tired with their age. It was like once they had died, so had their bodies aging. They were simply stuck in the same state, their body healing over it but not moving forward.

Nicolò wished he could say the same for his own loved ones.

He didn’t return to Genova after his ‘death’. He’d known he’d be sent back to fight the Crusades before he had a night alone with his family. All he’d wanted was to tell them he was alive. He was going to stay alive.

Yusuf was in no different of a position. Home was not an option, they’d only be sent back to fight. If anyone had found out they could not die no matter how hard they’d tried, people would try to use that to their advantage. Their own sides of the war would make sure of that. Nicolò didn’t want to spend the rest of eternity as a pawn, where he was sent out to battle with no choice, taking each wound to stand up and win in the end.

Despite all of that, he really didn’t want to go the rest of his life without seeing his family. By now his mother would be dead. His father had died when he was a young boy.

Every night he prayed he would see his younger sister one more time. Enough time had passed that they could travel with enough anonymity to be safe.

They’d first returned to Yusuf’s homeland a decade ago. To both of their disappointment, they’d found out his parents had passed. Yusuf didn’t have any siblings, leaving Nicolò as the only family he’d had left.

Nicolò could only hope Maria was still alive. He had no clue of what he life may be like now. The last he saw her, she was studying to serve the church.

Genova was as beautiful as he remembered. Even after being gone for forty years, there was a sense of familiarity.

Yusuf walked close to him, not so close where anyone could suspect they were anything more than travelling companions. While they were comfortable with their love, they weren’t naïve to think others would agree. He hoped Maria could see his happiness, even if she didn’t understand completely.

“Do you remember the way to home, my love,” Yusuf asked as they walked through the marketplace.

He could never forget the way home. Even after so long.

Except that wasn’t what he was looking for.

“I was thinking going to the church instead. Maria wouldn’t live there anymore when she started to serve the church.” And if she was dead, they would have records of it. That would give some closure at least.

Yusuf nodded, running his finger on the back of his hand. Yusuf still got uneasy in churches and Nicolò didn’t necessarily blame him. As long as Yusuf stayed close to him it should be fine.

They walked to the church he remembered Maria studying at. It was a short walk from the marketplace. He made a mental note to get some supplies.

The reached the church, stopping at the doors.

He took a deep breath and gave a silent prayer that she was inside. Church records would say he’d died in battle. It made him sick knowing that she had no idea that he was still alive and that she may have died not knowing.

They walked into the church and Nicolò opened the heavy doors.

As expected, the church was mostly empty. He saw a few people praying and there was possibly some people in confession. Other than that, it was only him and Yusuf.

The noise of the door closing behind them echoed. He felt the reassuring touch of Yusuf on his lower back.

The last time they’d gone into a Catholic church, Yusuf had jokingly asked if he was even allowed in the first place. He’d assured him the church would always be sanctuary for everyone, no matter their own faith.

He’d visited the church a lot when he had been grappling with how his heart filled with love for Yusuf. He’d confess to the priest how his love for him may have been overshadowing his faith whilst confessing to the blood that had been on his own hands. He did sometimes wonder which of the two those priests had been more horrified by.

Yusuf hadn’t been the first man for him to bed but he’d been the first he’d given his heart. That made all the difference, even if people in the church thought they were one in the same.

A Nun seemed to notice them and she walked towards them to meet them at the door. She looked to be young, maybe ten years younger than the age he and Yusuf had died at.

She gave them both a kind smile and she looked between the two of them. “Good day, gentleman, I am Sister Anne-Marie. What brings the two of you to our church?”

He smiled back at her. “Hello, me and my friend were looking for someone who used to study at this church, around forty years ago.”

She gave him a curious look. “Forty years?”

He nodded. He hadn’t aged a day passed thirty-five, her confusion wasn’t exactly unwarranted. “Yes, a Sister Maria.”

Her brows knitted for a moment. The worst scenarios went through his head. She was dead. She had been dead for a very long time.

“She’s at the convent currently. She didn’t say she was expecting guests.”

He was sure the relief showed on his face. “We just arrived recently, we didn’t get a chance to make her aware of our visit.”

Sister Anne-Marie nodded. “Well, I can walk you to the convent to see her. I think she’d like to have guests.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Yusuf gave him a smile. It was like they were able to read the other’s mind. _At least we are lucky somewher_ e.

“Does she have many visitors?” Nicolò asked once they’d stepped out of the courtyard. Yusuf stayed close to him. He wished he could hold his hand on the way there, only for the comfort.

She looked over her shoulder at them. “Not many. She has no family anymore. Mother died a few decades ago from an illness. She had a brother as well, he died in the Crusades.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew that was what she thought but hearing it made it so much more real.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Yusuf said. “Those wars were awful.”

Nicolò gave him a pointed look. He knew Sister Anne-Marie wouldn’t be able to figure anything out but he didn’t need Yusuf to say something that would at the very least make her suspicious of them having some kind of ulterior motive.

Sister Anne-Marie look over her shoulder at the two of them. “I agree. She never fully recovered from his death, from what I’ve heard at least.”

The despair must’ve shown on his face because Yusuf put his hand on his shoulder. He covered his hand with his own, even if it was just for a moment.

There’s nothing he could’ve done but he realises he regrets not coming back sooner. Even to see his mother on her deathbed. He’d left it all behind because he’d followed a destiny he wasn’t sure at all meant, other than Yusuf was somehow part of it. And maybe the people who appeared in their dreams.

They reached the convent. A long time ago, Nicolò had considered becoming a priest. The idea of living in a convent never completely appealed to him. Maria would tell him it wasn’t an issue but he’d always thought she had been lying about that. Maybe he had been wrong and she really did love living there, he wasn’t ever completely sure.

“I will go get her,” Sister Anne-Marie said as she turned to them. “Like I said, I think she’d be happy to have visitors.”

Nicolò smiled. “I hope she will be.”

After Sister Anne-Marie entered the convent, he turned to Yusuf. He didn’t say anything, just put his shaking hand into Yusuf’s. Yusuf squeezed it but that didn’t stop the shaking.

“Do you think she’ll recognise you?” asked Yusuf. His tone was so gentle because that was just who Yusuf was. He always made sure to show love and care.

He swallowed, trying to concentrate on his dark eyes. “I don’t know. I barely remember what she looked like the last time I saw her. I doubt it isn’t different for her.”

Yusuf looked at him, then looked around. There weren’t people around so he brought his fingers to his lips and gave them a light kiss.

“I think she’ll be happy to see you regardless, my love.”

He licked his lips and nodded. He hoped that was the case. He hadn’t thought too much on the possibility of whether she’d even believe him. Hopefully they’d be able to be somewhere private so he could show her his ability to heal. That would set it in stone. She probably see it as a miracle.

Or she’d curse his name for never coming home.

A few minutes passed before he saw Sister Anne-Maria returning to them with an elderly woman.

Despite her white hair and worn skin, Nicolò recognised her immediately. She had the same blue eyes, racking over himself and Yusuf with curiosity.

He was close to bursting into tears to see she appeared to be in good health.

“These are the gentleman who have come to visit you, Mother Maria.”

She looked between the two of them. He wasn’t sure if she was more confused by a man with the face of her deceased brother or the man of the people they were both taught to hate acting as his companion.

“Thank you, Sister Anne-Marie. You can return to the church,” she said.

Sister Anne-Marie smiled at them before walking into the direction of the church. Her smile had been wary but seemingly not enough where she’d wanted to disobey a superior.

Once she was gone, Maria stepped closer towards them. Her delicate fingers touched his cheek. Her mouth gaped open.

“Nicolò?”

“Hi Maria.”

She stepped back, her hand still raised. She was shaking her head. “No. I must be going senile with my old age. You cannot be Nicolò. My brother died fighting for the church.”

He was sure he visibly grimaced. He didn’t particularly like thinking about that being part of his legacy. Whether it was because it made him see the love of his life as an enemy or the pain it had caused so many.

“Are you his son?” Maria asked. “You answered to his name, his lover must’ve given you his name to carry his legacy.”

He decided against reminding her he’d never taken a lady lover. “Maria, no. It’s me, Nicolò, your brother.”

She shook her head frantically. “My brother died in the Crusades. While I do believe God is capable of miracles, I do not believe He would put you in front of me. Especially with a man I do not know.” Her eyes lay on Yusuf again.

“How rude of me, I have not introduced myself. My name is Yusuf.” He was giving her a smile. He could tell he was trying his best to make a good impression.

“We met during the Crusades,” said Nicolò, which only made her draw her brows together. “Maria, it really is me.”

She shook her head. “Nicolò died for the church. While your resemblance to him is striking, I cannot believe you are truly him.”

“You may be having trouble recognising him as he recently shaved,” Yusuf said, humour in his tone. He then turned to him. “Should we show her, habib albi?”

Nicolò wasn’t sure if her raising both her brows was because of his words or that she could figure out what the term of endearment meant. He decided to not dwell on it.

“Yes.” He hoped he was able to hear him saying the words back to him from his tone alone.

Maria didn’t let them lead her far away from the convent, instead allowing them to take her to a secluded garden. There was a fountain there. The sound of the water was relaxing, providing a peace he wouldn’t expect from other areas.

They sat across from her on the stone seating. She looked between the two of them again.

She was silent as Yusuf gave him his dagger. He mumbled “don’t hurt yourself too much.” If they had been alone, Nicolò wouldn’t brushed his lips against his skin as a reassurance.

He held out his arm to her. “Watch.” And in a quick motion, he slit right across his wrist.

She gasped. “Goodness!” She stood up as he tried to not grimace in pain. What was the point of not being able to die if it still hurt?

“Why would you do that to yourself! We need a priest! Or someone who could—”

“Maria, look at the wound.”

Despite her panic, she looked at his wrist. It was already starting to heal smoothly. In a few seconds, it was as if no wound had been there at all. Other than the blood.

He went to the fountain and washed off the blood. He didn’t need to ruin another garment.

Maria was silent as he sat back down. Yusuf was cleaning off his dagger with a cloth. He held it delicately between his fingers.

Nicolò held back a smile as he remembered that was the dagger that killed him. The second time.

Maria lets out a breath. “It’s a miracle.”

“Or something like that,” Yusuf mused. “I have the same ability.”

She stared at him with a deep frown. “I would rather not see another demonstration. I believe you.” She set her eyes back onto Nicolò. “You really cannot die? That kind of cut— it should’ve—” she cut herself off but Nicolò could tell what she meant.

“I died. We both did. We don’t know why we have this ability. All we know if that our wounds heal quickly and if we die, we come back in seconds.”

“Have you seen heaven?”

He pressed his lips together and looked at Yusuf. Somehow that had never been a thought to either of them. At least not something they’d openly talked about.

He shook his head solemnly. “No. It’s like falling asleep. One minute you’re dead and the next you’re waking up.”

Her eyes landed back onto Yusuf. “You said you met during the Crusades?”

Nicolò smiled. “Yes.”

“I was told my brother— you, that you killed the man who killed you.”

He nodded. “Correct.”

“And many times after,” Yusuf said, not even trying to hide the tinge of amusement in his voice.

He couldn’t stop his own smile. “We stopped when we realised we weren’t going to do anything to each other. We agreed to work together. We thought there must be a reason neither of us could die.”

She shook her head. “Nicolò, this is so much. I only believe it’s you because I could never forget your face. I remember you the day you left. You’re telling me you left the fight for the church to… to fight on your own terms?”

“For what we think is right.”

“You thought the Crusades were right.”

“No, I never really did. I hated going to fight, knowing I was probably going to die. Did you truly believe they were right?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m old, Nicolò. I’ve seen a lot in my time.”

“So have we, Maria. We’ve probably seen even more. We’re trying to do what benefits the right people.”

“Who you _deem_ the right people.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Maria, we were handed this gift. We don’t know why, and we don’t even know how long it may last. Maybe we’ll live a thousand more years, maybe we’ll die tomorrow. We don’t know but we’re trying to make it right.”

She shook her head. “Why did you abandon the church? Why did you never come home?”

“I knew they’d use me as their own pawn. It was safer, as much as it pains me to say. I missed you and mother everyday. But our only options were to run or to fight until we were the only two left standing.” He looked at Yusuf. “And at that point, I didn’t want to kill Yusuf ever again.”

She looked between them, blue eyes shifting back and forth. He wasn’t sure if her eyes were full of judgment or confusion or simply curiosity.

“He’s your lover.”

A statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Now things are starting to make a little more sense. I still think you should’ve come home, if only for mother’s sake.”

“I wish I was there to see her off.” It would always be his greatest regret.

She looked at Yusuf. “What about your family?”

“They died. We went to my homeland, only to find out they’d died a long time ago. When we went, I had hoped there may have been a chance they had at least lived that long, just so I could see them one more time.”

Nicolò expression turned soft as Yusuf looked down at his lap, his curls falling into his face. He put his hand over his own and squeezed it.

He felt Maria eying the two of them before she let out a breath. “You’ve changed, Nicolò.”

He nodded, meeting her eye. “Yes, I suppose I have. But maybe for the better.”

Yusuf squeezed his hand. Nicolò didn’t hold back his smile. Their fingers intertwined comfortably.

“Nicolò, I don’t have much time left,” Maria said. She let out a sigh. “I wish you’d came home sooner. I understand why you may have not but I can see it wasn’t an easy decision. When were you planning on leaving?”

“We don’t really have a plan currently. We don’t stay in places for too long. It’s safer that way.” They’d moved around a lot, sometimes settling in a village for a few years to work. That ranged from labour in exchange for wares and food, other times they took vigilante jobs.

It was best to not draw attention to themselves and try to blend in when they could.

She nodded. “Okay. When you figure something out make sure to let me know.” She stood up. He stood up too and hugged her. He tried not to be too tight, she felt so delicate in his arms.

“I promise,” he mumbled into her ear.

When they stepped away she looked at Yusuf. He’d been silent for most of the time. Maybe it would’ve been better to come alone but he wanted Maria to meet him at least once. For her to see he was doing at least okay and that he wasn’t alone.

“If you want to stay for while, I might be able to get you to a place to live,” Maria said.

He gave her a small smile. They’d been on the move for a while, usually finding shelter in caves or trees or none at all. All situations ended in them sleeping on the ground and finding warmth through the other.

“I think that would be great.”

Yusuf smiled too. “Thank you. It is much appreciated.”

This time when Maria looked at him, it was warm. “I am still in shock. I had grown to accept Nicolò’s death. I hope you’ve given him a worthwhile last few decades.”

Yusuf nodded. “I will give him everything I can, I can promise that.”

She smiled and looked back at Nicolò. “I’m glad you’re happy. I think I understand why you didn’t come home but I did truly miss you.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m so sorry I didn’t try coming sooner. I don’t even know how long we can stay before people notice we’re not aging and ask questions. It’s why I waited so long to come back, I needed most people to forget about me.”

“I understand. I doubt it was an easy decision for you.” She let out a sigh. “I may only have a few years left. If I’m lucky. I’d love it if you do stay, or simply just visit frequently. It’s little time, but I think no one will be too suspicious. If I have to, I can say you are my nephew.”

He smiled. “Thanks. You don’t have to do that.”

“I still want to get you guys a place. Even if it’s just somewhere to go to on occasional visits. I’d like this to still be home for you.”

He looked at Yusuf, who had his brows raised and his mouth slightly open. He met his eye, and gave a nod. “I think I would like that.”

Yusuf’s lips stretched into a smile. “I think I’d like that too.”

* * *

Maria died two years later.

He and Yusuf had decided to stay in Genvoa. While it was nice to have a secure place for a short time, maybe a very short one in their eternity, Nicolò would be damned if he missed Maria’s death. He’d already missed his mother’s, he had to chance to be with Maria for the short time she’d had left.

He hadn’t thought it would be as short as it had been. He’d help hope she would live for at least another decade. But he could see how she was slowly regressing, and the short time she had left became more and more apparant.

Nicolò was able to be by her side on her last day. She was lain in her bed, and it was hard for him to grasp how much had changed in those two years. He and Yusuf still looked to be the picture of health.

Seeing Maria was the reminder that this was the natural course of things. He still didn’t know why he wasn’t granted that. Why he had been given the chance to desert the war. Why he’d was granted to fall in love with the man who should’ve killed him.

Yusuf was by his side and she slowly drifted away. He’d seen death in people’s eyes to know the exact moment she was gone.

He pressed his lips to her forehead before standing up straight. Tears dripped down his face.

He felt Yusuf’s hands on his shoulder. He covered it with his own, allowing himself to fall into his hold. Sister Anne-Marie had been their only audience. Part of Nicolò knew she’d been able to figure out what their relationship was. Her expression was somewhere between sadness and warmth.

The burial was the next day. She was buried in the church’s cemetery. The same one he remembered them frequenting as young children.

After she was buried, he’d made sure to lay down lilies. They had been her favourite.

It was dark when he and Yusuf returned home. Yusuf got a start on dinner. It was only bread with olive oil and cheese as neither of them had much of an appetite.

They sat at their table, eating in silence. Nicolò hadn’t felt like talking much at all that day. They’d barely exchanged words since she’d died.

Despite knowing each other for a short time, he could see that Maria and Yusuf had bonded. Six months after meeting, she’d told him she saw Yusuf as a more than perfect lover for him and she’d trusted him with his heart for whatever eternity they’re granted. He’d smiled and hugged her. It had been so nice to have someone see their love and see it as something beautiful.

He ate the last few bites of his bread and sighed. “We should get moving tomorrow.”

Yusuf frowned. “Already?”

“No reason to stay anymore. We have enough supplies.”

He moved closer to him. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed his head. He let himself relax in his arms.

“We should spend the next few days resting,” Yusuf said. “I don’t think you’re in the state to travel quite yet.”

He decided to not fight him on it, turning his head and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Okay.”

He rubbed his side, nuzzling against his skin. “It’s hard, I know.”

“It’s too hard. Is this our lives now? Losing anyone we become close to just because we can’t die? Can we even get close to others? They’ll figure things out when they realise we don’t age.”

Yusuf was silent for a few moments, simply rubbing his side. “I don’t know. I can’t answer that.” He kissed his temple lightly. “But… I think things could be worse. We could’ve never met and be even more alone.”

He let out a breath. “I’m so glad we did meet. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had been alone.”

“Me either. I probably would’ve been lost without you.”

They went to bed and fell asleep as they always did, Yusuf holding Nicolò from behind as they both drifted into their nights sleep.

The fact they would always have the other was a hopeful comfort they both desperately needed.


End file.
